Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..
Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..
Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..
Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..
Strolling across to plot a breathless life..
Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?
Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..
Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..
In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..
A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..
A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..
And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..
Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables
Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..
How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?
How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?
Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?
Or did the benign fisherman row thee across?
I think he did.. didn’t he?
Anew bridge..anew sketch..
Anew binding of faith and fate..as thee etches on..
P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.